Phantom Marriage

But if he put a foot wrong that weekend then that would be that. And putting a foot wrong could include making a fuss when she asked him to use protection. If he cared for her as he said he did, then he should just do as she wanted, no questions asked.

Suddenly she regretted demanding he not ring her until Sunday. She would so like to hear his voice. Dared she ring him herself?

No. Perhaps not. Nothing good ever came of a girl seeming too eager. She would content herself with reading one of the very interesting looking novels her father had in his bookshelf next to his desk. It seemed he’d liked spy stories, a genre which had never overly appealed to her. But she supposed if her father had liked them then maybe so would she. So she selected a medium-sized tome with the provocative title of One Spy Too Many and took it out onto the terrace. There she settled, soon engrossed in what turned out to be a real page-turner.

It was hunger pains which finally forced Veronica to lift her eyes from the book. That, and the light fading so much that she was forced to go inside if she wanted to continue to read whilst she ate. Either that or turn on the outside lights. But that always attracted insects.

Dinner was poached eggs on toast. More of a breakfast than a dinner meal but it was enough for now. She’d had a huge plate of pasta at lunchtime. She hadn’t come to Italy to get fat, though it would be easy…the food was so delicious.

When her period still hadn’t arrived by the time she’d finished the book late that night, Veronica resigned herself to her cycle temporarily having gone walkabout. When it had happened before she’d gone to the doctor in a panic, thinking she’d contracted some dreaded disease, but after an examination and some tests the doctor had told her that she was perfectly fine. The worst thing she could do, the doctor had said, was worry. His advice had been to eat healthily, take plenty of exercise and do things she enjoyed. Which had been a little hard back then when nothing had made her happy.

Not so on the Isle of Capri.

Veronica decided to follow that doctor’s instructions to a T. The next morning she rose early and went for a walk before breakfast. Nothing too adventurous, just down the road and back again. Then after breakfast she made her way carefully down the steep path to the Hotel Fabrizzi and asked Elena—who was sitting at a computer behind the reception desk in the coolly spacious foyer—if there was a map of Capri she could borrow. Elena showed her a stand on the wall which contained maps, as well as lots of brochures of tourist activities on Capri. Veronica sorted through them and took one of everything which interested her.

‘Thank you, Elena,’ she said.

‘You are welcome,’ came her warm reply. ‘Mamma said if I saw you to ask you to come to dinner tonight. Nothing like the other night. It will just be her and Papa.’

‘How nice of her. That would lovely. Is she here?’

‘She is busy doing the rooms with Carmelina at the moment. Can I say you will come?’

‘Of course. What time do you think?’

‘Seven. And don’t eat too much before you come. Mamma likes to feed her guests until they burst.’

Veronica laughed. ‘Yes. I did notice that last Friday night.’

‘Have you heard from Leonardo?’ Elena suddenly asked.

‘He rang me on Sunday night to thank me for letting him stay. But not since then.’

Elena frowned. ‘He was strange at lunch on Sunday.’

‘Strange? What do you mean?’

‘I do not know. He was not the brother I am used to. He was too quiet. I wondered if you had argued with him.’

‘No. Not at all.’

‘Mamma does not understand Leonardo. She and Papa keep pressing him to marry but he is not ready to settle down yet.’

‘Leonardo will never be ready to settle down,’ Veronica said, any foolish dreams she’d been harbouring totally shattered by voicing the truth out loud.

Elena’s eyes showed her surprise. ‘You know him well enough already to know that?’

‘We met briefly many years ago,’ Veronica explained. ‘I knew then what kind of man he was.’

‘He is a not a bad man,’ Elena defended hotly, dark eyes flashing.

‘No, but he is restless. And dissatisfied with his life. He never got over his retirement from competitive skiing. I hope your mamma and papa don’t think he’s going to marry me. Because he won’t.’

Elena sighed. ‘They must have hope, Veronica. Please don’t say any of this to them tonight.’

‘Okay. I’ll just play happy tourist.’

‘You are more than a tourist. You are Laurence’s daughter.’